


coming from the heart (the road is long)

by vtforpedro



Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst with a Happy Ending, Car Accidents, Family Drama, Fluff and Angst, M/M, Time Skips
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-12
Updated: 2019-06-12
Packaged: 2020-05-01 21:37:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,673
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19185928
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vtforpedro/pseuds/vtforpedro
Summary: In which Bilbo and Thorin find their way on the long road to love.





	coming from the heart (the road is long)

Bilbo had never been particularly fond of parties.

Noisy, uncomfortable things that made you late for bed.

When he was very young, his mother would throw him birthday parties and those were all well and good in primary. Secondary had seen the loss of his father and without Bungo, parties had never really gained their spark back. And as he had reached his later teens, they became about drinking and getting in the sack with someone, things he wasn’t interested in. After kissing a girl or two at the last party he had gone to, he had quite the awakening into his sexuality and what else he wasn’t interested in.

There were no more parties after that.

Until now, he supposes, looking morosely around the living room of a cramped house, entirely unfamiliar to him. It’s much further from uni than he had wanted to go but Ori had somehow convinced him to come and _socialize._ And who has time for that anyway? They’re in their second year and more busy than ever and Bilbo desperately wishes he was back in his flat studying.

It doesn’t help that Ori has become more of a social butterfly than Bilbo ever could have expected. He had made friends with the Ur family, as they were fondly called, and Bilbo is fairly certain this is the cousin’s home. He’s far older than Bofur and Bombur but he is a good host, Bilbo has to say, as he watches Bifur keep everyone in line.

And it _certainly_ doesn’t help that, while most people are friendly, there is a particular person sitting on the couch who keeps glaring in Bilbo’s direction.

He’s tall, his long legs stretched out in front of him, and Bilbo can tell he’s the type to hit the gym fairly often. He isn’t quite as large as the mohawked friend next to him, who is more intimidating to Bilbo, considering he isn’t paying attention to him. But the other, the black-haired one, keeps looking in his direction, his thick brows furrowed into a glare and Bilbo glares back.

He’s aware his growth spurts stopped in early secondary and that his glasses make him look a bit… nerdy. But is that any reason to sit and glare at a stranger?

Bilbo huffs a little as Ori leaves his side to once again run to the increasingly alcoholic punch bowl, his own cup still mostly full. He decides to visit the kitchen himself, where there are snacks of many varieties, and far less people.

There are numerous bags of chips, a few boxes of cold pizza, candy bars of all things, gourmet popcorn, and… buttery dinner rolls?

Bilbo shakes his head as he piles caramel corn onto a plate and dares a sip of his drink. He winces and eats a few pieces of popcorn to get rid of the taste.

“Bloody foul, isn’t it?”

He jumps a little and turns to the doorway as his stomach turns. And there he is, the glaring stranger, with a perfectly deep voice to match his unfortunately perfectly good looks.

He’s got very blue eyes and a growing beard and Bilbo decides he needs far more alcohol for this.

“It wasn’t as bad when we first got here,” Bilbo mumbles as he turns away. “Though it’s certainly more rum than punch at this point.”

The man chuckles. “That might be my friend’s fault,” he says and moves further into the kitchen.

Bilbo glances up and watches as he opens the fridge and pulls out two beers. He turns to Bilbo and approaches him, handing one over. He still looks stern, frowning powerfully, his eyes narrowed.

And it suddenly dawns on Bilbo.

He laughs as he takes the beer. “Thanks,” he says. “Did you forget them at home?”

The man frowns further and looks confused for a moment before he sighs and nods. “Ran out of contacts last night and the ones coming in the mail are delayed. Is it that noticeable that I can’t see?”

“Well, you’ve been glaring at me for the last two hours,” Bilbo says mildly. “Though I’ve only just realized it’s because you can’t see anything.”

As he says it, Bilbo has another dawning realization. This man has been staring at him on and off, not glaring, and though he might not have had a perfect picture of Bilbo, he had still been… looking. It’s enough to bring some heat to his cheeks and he cracks the beer open to take a quick swig.

“I can see some things well enough,” the man says, equally as mildly.

Bilbo takes another quick swig of beer. “Oh, well… hmm,” he says, his heart beating rapidly, any eloquence he possesses abandoning him. “Do you, erm… like what you see then?”

Bloody hell.

The man grins. “I do,” he says as he takes a drink of his own beer, his gaze not leaving Bilbo. “What year are you in?”

“Second,” Bilbo says. “Education so I’ll be here for a few years yet. Yourself?”

“Fourth,” the man says, his eyes twinkling. “Architecture.”

“Somehow fitting,” Bilbo says and munches on his popcorn. “Hopefully you’ll remember your contacts in class or you’ll never learn a thing.”

The man chuckles and scratches the back of his neck. “I sleep through most of them anyway.”

“Oh? Remind me to never hire you as an architect.”

“You should. Been doing it since I could hold a pencil. My father and grandfather were architects.”

Bilbo smiles. “Family talent, is it? Well, good luck to you…?”

“Thorin Durin,” the man says as he offers Bilbo his free hand.

“Bilbo Baggins,” Bilbo says as he shakes Thorin’s hand and tries to ignore how warm and… rough it is. A builder’s hands and that does far too many things to Bilbo, who is suddenly much more sober than he’d like to be.

Thorin is gazing at him steadily, only squinting a bit, and Bilbo gets the distinct impression he can read his mind. He coughs a little and drinks more of his beer.

He’s had… fumblings before, certainly, but nothing more than that. A few makeout sessions and perhaps a bit more but nothing with anyone like Thorin. Gloriously tall and gloriously handsome Thorin, who is a man, not the boys Bilbo had kissed behind secondary school.

Who says he will be kissing Thorin anyway? Bilbo thinks he might be reading too much into it. Flirting isn’t his strong suit but it _had_ seemed blatant along with admissions and Bilbo has a hard time convincing himself Thorin isn’t interested.

“You’re thinking too hard for a Saturday night party,” Thorin says with a faint smile. “There are too many weird snacks and beers here for that much thinking.”

Bilbo snorts and raises his eyebrows. “Trying to get me drunk, are you?”

Thorin looks worried suddenly. “No,” he says. “That’s not how I want you.” A bit of a blush comes over his nose as he winces. “I mean that… I’d like to talk to you while you’re _not_ drunk. I’ve had too much of drunk people in my life to want to be around it.”

That sounds like a story, Bilbo thinks, but it’s far too early to ask about it. “Good,” he says and looks at Thorin’s trainers.

Thorin is charming, Bilbo supposes, and oddly enough, he thinks he trusts him. Thorin may have been flirting before he knew Bilbo’s name but he seems genuinely interested and Bilbo wonders if he should take a leap of faith. He isn’t looking to date anyone, really, he’s far too busy for that, but what’s so wrong with having a good time?

“My friend Ori, who I came here with, should be able to get a ride with Bombur,” Bilbo says slowly as he looks up at Thorin’s blue, blue eyes. “Did you want to, erm… get out of here, as they say?”

Thorin’s smile is warmer than Bilbo thinks his heart can take. “I’d love to,” he says. “I’ll tell Dwalin to ask for a ride home if he has too much. We don’t live far from here, only two miles.”

Bilbo’s stomach is roiling viciously but it’s an anxious energy he’s used to. It normally happens before he decides to be daring.

“Are you alright with riding a bike?” Thorin asks as Bilbo is too busy being a ball of anxiety to reply properly.

“A bike? It doesn’t have a basket, does it?” Bilbo asks quickly.

Thorin laughs and grins. “Not that type of bike, I’m afraid.”

Bilbo blushes when he realizes his mistake and laughs nervously. “Oh,” he says and takes another drink of his beer. “A motorbike. I suppose as long as you haven’t had too many of these.” He holds up his beer bottle.

“I haven’t,” Thorin says with a smile. “I swear it. And I do have these.” He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a pair of black-rimmed glasses and puts them on.  
  
Bilbo laughs. “Why haven’t you been wearing them?”  
  
“Because Dwalin doesn’t shut up about them when I do,” Thorin says with a heavy sigh.  
  
Bilbo chuckles and shakes his head. “Well, you look good in them.”  
  
Thorin smiles. “Thanks,” he says and gestures to the door.

After grabbing a good handful of candy bars, Bilbo leaves the kitchen with Thorin and they separate to find their respective friends. Ori’s a bit disappointed that Bilbo is leaving until Thorin comes to loom at his shoulder and leaves Ori gawking open-mouthed like a fish. Bilbo blushes hotly and blurts out a quick goodbye and leaves the party with Thorin.

Thorin’s motorbike isn’t quite as huge as the one next to it but it’s black and sleek and intimidating all the same. Thorin has an extra helmet and Bilbo counts his lucky stars as he clambers awkwardly on to the bike after Thorin. And if he clutches at Thorin’s shirt a bit too tightly, Thorin doesn’t seem to mind and merely pats his hand before they’re off.

It’s a slow drive and Bilbo suspects that’s for his own sake but by the time they stop in front of a small home, Bilbo’s rather wishing they could have gone on a longer ride.

“There’s something oddly freeing about that,” Bilbo says as he takes off his helmet and hands it to Thorin and tries to tame his hair.

“Exactly why I like them,” Thorin says and smiles. “Maybe I’ll go a bit faster when I take you home.”

“Only if you promise to take your time now.”

Thorin’s cheeks darken and he swallows, his throat bobbing as he does so. “Whatever you’d like,” he says lowly and offers his hand.

And if Thorin kisses Bilbo the moment they’re inside, Bilbo can’t say he’s surprised.

And when Thorin carefully slides into him later, Bilbo isn’t surprised by that either. Only by the way it makes him feel. Thorin is gentle until Bilbo asks him not to be and by the time he’s falling asleep in Thorin’s warm embrace, he’s glad Ori convinced him to attend the party.  
  
If only for a while.

——  
  
Bilbo wakes the next morning to Thorin setting a plate of eggs and toast on the bedside table, along with a full glass of orange juice. He feels a bit strange as he eats in Thorin’s bed and that strangeness doesn’t go away when he’s done. It feels rather like a pit in the middle of his stomach and he wonders what on earth is wrong with him.

Thorin must notice.

“Are you alright?”

“Hmm?” Bilbo hums and pushes his glasses up on his nose as he glances at Thorin.

Thorin is peering at him with concern. “Are you hurt?”

Bilbo gapes at him for a while until the morning fog clears. “Oh! No, not at all,” he says quickly. “Well, I certainly couldn’t do it again, I think, not for a few days, but, erm… not hurt at all.”

“Does that mean I can take you out on a date then?” Thorin asks with a smile.

The pit in Bilbo’s stomach widens and it’s a bit of a nasty realization as to what it is. Not regret, no, he’d never regret being with Thorin and he’d certainly enjoyed himself. It’s the idea of _more_ that worries him. He doesn’t want more. The thought of it is frightening and makes him feel queasy.

“Erm,” Bilbo mumbles and glances down at the dark blue comforter covering his waist. “I’m… I’m sorry, Thorin, I should have told you this last night but I’m not particularly… looking for more.” He coughs a little. “I’m so busy with schoolwork and I don’t think I could find the time to date someone. I’d hate to never be around—”

“Bilbo,” Thorin says firmly. When Bilbo has met his eyes, he smiles crookedly. “You don’t have to explain yourself. We didn’t talk about it and I’m not expecting you to do anything you don’t want to do. It’s alright.”

Bilbo sighs in relief, his shoulders slumping, and nods. “Thank you,” he says. “I wouldn’t want to hurt you.”

Thorin is quiet for a while before he slips out of bed and finds his shirt from last night. “Let me take you home,” he says. “You’ve got studying to catch up on.”

“I do,” Bilbo says and stands as he watches Thorin cover his well-sculpted and surprisingly hairy chest with only a bit of regret. He finds his own clothes and pulls them on. “Erm, Thorin?”

“Yes?” Thorin asks as he slips his trainers back on and finds his glasses.

“Do you…” Bilbo trails off and clears his throat, his cheeks warming. “Perhaps not dating but, erm, would you want to…?” He huffs and gestures grandly at Thorin’s bed.

Thorin gazes at him before he smiles vaguely and shrugs. “We could,” he says and comes to stand in front of Bilbo. “If you ever want to come over and…” He gestures at his bed with a bit of a smirk and leans down to press a chaste kiss to Bilbo’s cheek. “Give me your number and I’ll call you.”

Bilbo feels relieved and rather proud of himself for asking. It would be odd to never see Thorin again and the idea of going to bed with him whenever they feel like it sounds new and… exciting. The lack of commitment even more so. He gives Thorin his number with a smile and walks out of the bedroom with a spring in his step.

He notices that Thorin is a bit more subdued as they leave the house and get on his motorbike. He isn’t saying much but Bilbo chalks it up to a morning after a party, even if neither of them drank all that much. Or perhaps he simply isn’t a morning person, like Bilbo isn’t most days.

Thorin drives Bilbo to his flat near the university and Bilbo thoroughly enjoys the ride. He’s dropped off at the sidewalk and Bilbo gives Thorin the helmet with a smile.

“I’ll hear from you soon?”

Thorin looks at Bilbo and seems to be searching for something. He must find it because he nods once. “I’ll call you and we’ll figure it out,” he says. “Don’t study too hard.”

“That’s like asking a bird not to fly,” Bilbo says wryly and waves. “See you, Thorin.”

Thorin nods and is off on his motorbike. Bilbo watches him go and sighs happily. He heads into his flat and is immediately ambushed by Ori, who has quite a lot of questions, and Bilbo answers them with a grin.

——  
  
It’s all going rather well with Thorin by the middle of the school year. They meet two or three times a month when their schedules allow it and it’s a good time when they do. Bilbo learns new things about himself that he thinks will end up doing him some good later in life. He and Thorin seem to work well together and Bilbo is endlessly surprised how well this friends with benefits arrangement is going. He’s always heard it ends in pain and resentment but that isn’t the case for him.

Thorin may be quiet at times, with dark circles under his eyes, but he is very busy with school, just as much as Bilbo, even if he sleeps through some of his classes. He treats Bilbo well and Bilbo thinks that’s all that matters.

Winter comes and goes and by mid spring, when Bilbo is hard at work studying for exams, everything changes.

He meets Tomas.

Brilliant, beautiful Tomas, studying to become a surgeon. He’s tall and blond and has lovely green eyes and he sweeps Bilbo right off his feet the day they meet. Tomas is bold and charming and makes Bilbo feel something he’s never felt before. Dates with him are always spontaneous and exciting and Bilbo finds himself falling in a few short weeks.

He knows his arrangement with Thorin must come to an end. He feels badly about it but, well, he also wants to sleep with Tomas and it wouldn’t be right to do so without first telling Thorin. He thinks Thorin will take it well, as he hasn’t shown any signs of attachment, thank goodness. And he’s well aware that Thorin is far too good looking to go without anyone for very long.

Yes, Thorin will be just fine.

Bilbo calls him and asks him to meet up at a cafe on campus for lunch. Thorin agrees and Bilbo arrives a bit early to get a coffee and attempt to calm his racing heart. He’s excited to go to Tomas’s tonight but he thinks it would be rude if he can’t stop smiling while breaking things off with Thorin.

He’s sipping his latte when the door chimes open and he looks up to see Thorin enter.

Thorin is as handsome as he always is, wearing his black leather jacket, his hair mussed up from his riding helmet, which he carries under his arm. He spots Bilbo and comes to the table to sit across from him.

There’s a knowing glint to his eye and Bilbo thinks that this will be even easier than he expected.

“How are you?” he asks with a smile. “Order whatever you’d like.”

“I don’t have much time,” Thorin says. “Dwalin and I have plans soon.”

“Oh,” Bilbo says, surprised Thorin hadn’t mentioned it. “How are classes going?”

“As well as can be expected with exams looming closer,” Thorin says and looks at the table. “You?”

Bilbo coughs. “Oh, well, the same. Endless studying, endless headaches,” he says. “Forgetting to eat most meals.”

Thorin smiles faintly. “That must be hard for you,” he says. “You love food more than anyone I’ve ever met.”

“Nothing makes me quite as happy as food, yes,” Bilbo says as he laughs. “I’m going to binge as soon as the year is over.”

Thorin doesn’t say anything for a moment and gazes at Bilbo. He smiles again, lopsidedly. “You wanted to tell me something?”

Bilbo nods and shifts in the chair. “Erm, yes,” he says. He pauses and feels more awkward than he thought he might. “It’s… hmm. Well, it’s about our… arrangement. I’m going to have to, well… call it off, I think.”

“You’ve met someone,” Thorin says mildly.

“Well, yes,” Bilbo sighs, glad that it seems Thorin can still read his mind. “I didn’t expect to meet anyone until I left school. I’m… sorry, though, I quite liked what we had.”

“I know you did,” Thorin says, his tone strange, to Bilbo’s ears. “It’s alright, Bilbo. We were only sleeping together, I didn’t expect anything beyond that. We meet people when we least expect it.” He puts his helmet on his lap and looks down at it. “With the people we least expect.”

Bilbo nods in relief. “Exactly,” he says and smiles. “I’m glad you understand. I would never want to hurt you or… or anything like that. You’re a very nice man.”

Thorin laughs and looks at Bilbo. “Thanks,” he says. “I hope he makes you happy.” He sighs. “I’d better go. Thank you for having the decency to tell me.”

Bilbo wonders if he hears some dryness in Thorin’s voice and wonders if someone hadn’t told him in the past. “Of course. It wouldn’t have been right otherwise. Thank you, Thorin,” he says. “I’ll see you around campus, I hope!”

“I’m sure you will,” Thorin says and stands. He searches Bilbo’s face as he so often does before he nods and turns away. “Bye, Bilbo.”

He’s off before Bilbo can hardly stutter out a goodbye and he watches as Thorin puts his helmet on and disappears outside. He frowns and leans back in his chair, his stomach coiling uncomfortably. Bilbo doesn’t particularly know why but he feels badly watching Thorin go. He took it well enough, didn’t he?

His phone rings and Bilbo feels his heart swell with happiness when he sees Tomas’s number. He answers giddily and makes plans for the evening and floats through the rest of the day.

Better things are on the horizon.

——  
  
Fourteen years later, Bilbo sits at his desk in his classroom. It’s lunch hour and he munches on a sandwich while looking over a few student essays on his laptop. They’re a bit more than midway through the year and Bilbo is glad to at least see… some improvement. The beginning of the school year saw some essays written at the high school level and Bilbo had to dot them in red far too often.

His students are coming a long way, as they should after classes and lectures spent with him. If they’re to be great teachers one day, he won’t see their brains oozing out of their ears in his classroom.

He chuckles at a particularly clever anecdote in the essay he’s marking and types a note.

They remind him of himself now and then. He thought he was so clever when he was in university and he supposes in some aspects he was. In others… well, not so much.

Bilbo had gone on to get his doctorate and had been guaranteed a spot in the same university he was studying at. Dr. Grey was very fond of him, thankfully, and Professor Grubb had been retiring. Everything fell into place perfectly in his career but not necessarily in other parts of his life. He ignores those parts now, focusing on teaching and traveling when he has the time for it.

It’s safer that way.  
  
He’s off to Paris this summer coming and when he had mentioned it to Gandalf, Gandalf had told him he was too busy looking for something to properly enjoy his adventures. That he wouldn’t find it in Ibiza or Dublin or Barcelona. Bilbo had politely told him that he wasn’t looking for anything, thank you very much, and what do you even know about it?

Bilbo regrets it a bit and tries to ignore that he always feels somewhat empty when returning to London after visiting another country. It’s probably because he has so many lessons to plan when he returns home.

Yes, that’s it. Of course it is.

Bilbo sighs as he rubs his hand over his forehead. The words blur together on the screen and Bilbo closes his eyes.

He snaps them open when he hears raised voices.  
  
He listens closely and glances at the time. It’s lunch and most students tend to flee the lecture halls when it is. As he’s listening, he recognizes a fellow professor’s voice and sighs again. He stands and walks to the doorway and pauses before he goes into the hall, not sure if he should interfere.

Bilbo hears words like _failing_ and _should_ and _responsibility_ but they’re not coming from Professor Stewardson’s mouth. It’s a deeper, angrier voice and Bilbo frowns to himself at the aggressiveness in it. If it’s a student, it does no good to leave the professor to it by himself.

He walks into the hall and glances down it and sees three men. Professor Stewardson is in front of his classroom’s door and there are two men standing in front of him, one blond and the other black-haired. It’s the black-haired one that’s making such a fuss. He gestures at the blond and the professor shakes his head resolutely.

“What kind of fucking school is this?!” the man explodes. “That you won’t even help students?!”

Bilbo walks toward the group and sees that the blond is radiating tension.

“We _have_ helped,” Professor Stewardson says evenly. “We’ve helped rather a lot but this is still college and our students are expected to take responsibility.”

“What have you done to help him? Have you offered tutoring? Have you ever even spoken with him?”

Faramir sighs. “Many times,” he says. “He’s failing because he has no interest. He might be interested in another field—”

“There is no other field he’s to be in!” the man shouts. “He’s to be an arc—”

“Like you?” the blond snaps. “I’m supposed to be like you is what you mean. I don’t want to bloody be like you!”

The other man bristles. “And what do you want to be? A world traveler? To sit on the beach in Belize and drink cocktails for the rest of your life?”

“What’s so wrong with that?” the blond demands and throws his arms in the air. “What harm would I be doing you?”

“You would be a failure!” the other man roars. “With nowhere to go in life!”

“Gentlemen—” Faramir attempts to intervene.

“I’ll be bloody happy which is more than I can say for you! With your degree and your career and _your bloody misery!”_ the blond yells. “I’m done with this! I’m done with school. I don’t want to be you. I’m leaving.”

Bilbo watches with apprehension as the blond turns and strides down the hallway toward him. The other man stomps after him and grabs his shoulder to stop him and Bilbo gets a good look at his face. His stomach twists and his heart skips a beat.

_Thorin._

Thorin Durin, in the flesh, certainly older and with a thick beard and shorter hair, but Thorin all the same.

“You’ll have nothing to fall back on when you run back home,” Thorin says rather menacingly. “I won’t support you.”

The blond laughs. “Since when have you?” he shoots back. “I’ve been working and supporting myself for years now. I had to move in with you only after you forced me to come here! I’m leaving, Thorin! I’m done.”

He walks away again and passes Bilbo and doesn’t seem to notice him. Thorin follows him but his eyes dart in Bilbo’s direction. He abruptly stops walking and stares at Bilbo, his features stern but there is something else in his eyes, something Bilbo can’t name.

Bilbo stares back at him, his heart thundering. “Thorin,” he says quietly, not sure what else to say. It sounds like a plea.

“Stay out of it,” Thorin snaps, glaring powerfully, before he’s off down the hall after the other man.

Bilbo watches him go until he’s out of sight and sighs, his shoulders slumping. He looks at Faramir as he approaches and feels sympathy for his fellow professor and anger for the student. A student he’s fairly certain is Thorin’s younger brother at this point.

“You’d think this was secondary,” Bilbo says with a slight smile. “Isn’t he a bit old to have his brother come intimidate the teacher?”

Faramir huffs. “He’s _twenty-eight,_ Bilbo,” he says blandly. “Twenty-eight and his brother still thinks it’s up to him to fight his battles. The boy doesn’t want to be here anymore and I’ve already explained that in emails. Stubborn, all of them.”

“I remember,” Bilbo says as he looks down the hall. “I remember the stubbornness but I don’t remember the anger.”

“You know Mister Durin?”

“Once upon a time,” Bilbo says with a sad smile. “He wasn’t… like that. Not that I ever saw.”

Faramir nods. “There’s a massive stick up his arse,” he says wryly.

Bilbo laughs. “So it seems,” he says even as his heart twinges painfully.

It isn’t how he would have ever chosen to see Thorin again. He’s thought about him over the years, of course he has, and there’s always a pang of regret when he does. Especially after… well, no use thinking of that now. It’s been fourteen years and though it seems like Thorin recognized him, Bilbo probably rarely crosses his mind. It makes him feel a bit queasy so he quashes the thought and looks at Faramir.

“Prancing Pony after?”

Faramir looks relieved. “I think that is exactly what I need, friend,” he says and claps Bilbo on the shoulder. “I’m sorry you had to see that display.”

Bilbo’s a bit sorry too. “I’ve seen worse,” he says and smiles. “Tonight!”

Faramir salutes and walks down the hall to his classroom. Bilbo goes back into his and sits heavily down at the desk.

He suddenly has far too much to think about and his chest is uncomfortably tight. The image of Thorin glaring at him, actually glaring, will be burned into his mind for a while, Bilbo suspects. He puts his head in his hands and wonders what went wrong.

But Bilbo will never get those answers because he will never see Thorin again.

He wonders why that thought hurts far more than it once used to.

——  
  
Bilbo tries to shake the brief meeting with Thorin out of his mind for the next week and a half.

It doesn’t work but he still tries.

Faramir had explained to Bilbo over a handful beers that Thorin had been emailing him for a few days prior to his impromptu meeting. He had said he was short, rude and to the point and that he wasn’t all that surprised Thorin had bullied his brother into university or that he had confronted Faramir. Faramir had also mentioned that Frerin Durin is failing all of his classes, which hadn’t always been the case. When he had first started attending, he was exactly the opposite. He had made everything seem easy.

He had the mind for architecture but no passion.

It was Thorin’s passion, which Bilbo knew well enough, but Frerin’s words are still ringing in his ears.

_Your bloody misery._

Bilbo knows it’s not his business and even though he had spent months with Thorin, inevitably getting to know him, he hadn’t particularly thought Thorin was miserable. He could be quiet and withdrawn and rarely spoke of his past but he was always good to Bilbo. Never cruel, the way he seemed to be with Frerin.

Considering how much Bilbo himself likes to sit on the beach with a cocktail, he can hardly hold it against Frerin for wishing to do the same.

He sighs as he pushes the shopping trolley through the produce section of the grocery store. He bags vegetables and fruits that tickle his fancy for the next few days and forces himself to think of work. He does have a huge amount of marking to do tonight and he might be procrastinating by being at the store later and longer than necessary.

Bilbo heads into the aisle that carries sauces and stocks. The only chicken stock left is on the very top shelf and pushed nearly a foot back and Bilbo scowls at it. He puts his foot on the bottom shelf and tests his weight out on it, ignoring how the shelf bows in the middle.

“That’s dangerous,” a voice says just as an arm reaches above his head and grabs a box of chicken stock.

A very familiar voice.

Bilbo’s stomach does a flip as he turns and gapes at Thorin, who has taken a step back and is handing the box to Bilbo.

“Oh,” Bilbo says and puts it in his trolley. “Yes, I suppose it is. Thank you, erm… Mister Durin.”

Thorin still has the habit of searching Bilbo’s face it seems. He raises an eyebrow. “There’s no need to be formal.”

Bilbo isn’t quite sure what to say to that so he nods and pats his thigh. “It’s… been quite a while,” he says, not daring to ask how Thorin is. “You look well.”

“You do too,” Thorin mumbles and his eyes dart down to the basket hanging on his arm. “I was going to come by your classroom soon.”

Bilbo gapes again. “You were?”

“To apologize,” Thorin clarifies and looks uncomfortably contrite. “To you and Professor Stewardson. I shouldn’t have made a scene. I should have kept it private and less…”

“Loud?” Bilbo dares a guess.

Thorin smiles wryly. “Right,” he sighs. “I’m sorry you had to see that. My brother is… difficult.”

Bilbo raises his eyebrows. Thorin doesn’t seem to think _he_ was the one being difficult. The apology is for the scene he caused, Bilbo realizes, but not for how he treated his brother.

“He’s very young,” Bilbo says carefully.

“He’s nearly thirty,” Thorin says, a cool edge to his tone now.

“You never wanted to leave the city and go live on the beach with a Piña Colada in your hand?”

“No, I didn’t,” Thorin says firmly. “I knew that sort of thing wasn’t feasible. Or responsible. It’s risky.”

Bilbo scoffs. “And you’ve never taken risks?”

Thorin glares. “I have,” he says. “And I know what it’s like to be burned by those risks. I’ve learned the pain isn’t worth it.”

“Some risks are worth it,” Bilbo says, his heart racing. He isn’t arrogant enough to think Thorin is talking about their time together but it’s a thought that still occurs to him. “If your brother goes to Belize and drinks cocktails and is happy doing it, what’s so wrong with it?”

“That’s not what a Durin does!” Thorin snaps. “We’ve been architects since the dawn of skyscrapers. We aren’t meant to be anything else.”

“That’s an incredibly obtuse and selfish way of thinking,” Bilbo bristles. “Your brother—”

“Is none of your damn business,” Thorin says fiercely. “You don’t know anything about us.”

“I know well enough the pressure of family thinking they know what you _should_ be,” Bilbo snaps. “It hurts and it pushed me away from my extended family. You’re going to push him away.”

Thorin’s glare could pierce armor. He stares Bilbo down and Bilbo realizes they’re both breathing shallowly, their fists clenched at their sides.

Bilbo huffs a little and looks away. “It’s not my business,” he mutters. “And I don’t know you or your brother well enough to know what’s right for either of you. But perhaps you don’t know your brother well enough either.”

“I’ve been raising him my entire life,” Thorin says angrily but less powerfully. “I know his faults.”

“Not your own though,” Bilbo says mildly and doesn’t care what it costs him.

Thorin inhales sharply and takes a step back, as if Bilbo had tried to strike him. He’s silent for a moment as he stares intently at Bilbo. “I’m not my grandfather,” he says very quietly.

Bilbo frowns. “I wouldn’t know,” he says, confused by the statement. “I think you only need to speak with your brother without judgments.”

Thorin’s eyes look a bit wild as they observe each other. The heavy silence in the aisle is broken by a sudden ringing and Bilbo and Thorin both flinch. It’s Thorin’s phone and he pulls it out of his pocket with, Bilbo notices, trembling hands. He closes his eyes before looking at Bilbo.

“It’s my sister.”

Bilbo nods and, with a large amount of regret, turns away. “See you then.”

“Hello?” Thorin answers glumly from behind him. After a pause, Thorin whispers, _“What?_ When?”

Bilbo stops and glances back at Thorin, a bit chilled by the shock in Thorin’s voice. Thorin looks far more pale than he had only a moment ago and his mouth is hanging open as he listens to his sister.

He interrupts whatever she’s saying by asking firmly, “Is he going to live?”

His chest tightens and Bilbo feels cold suddenly. He turns and comes back to stand near Thorin, not sure if he should, but he feels the need to anyway.

“I’ll be there as soon as I can,” Thorin says and hangs up, his hands shaking wildly. He looks at Bilbo. “Frerin was in an accident.”

Bilbo’s heart skips a beat. “Is he…?”

“Shattered leg and broken ribs that pierced some organs,” Thorin says and some panic enters his voice. “He’s bleeding internally. They took him into surgery ten minutes ago.”

“Then he’ll need you there,” Bilbo says with as much calm as he can muster.

“I fucking walked here,” Thorin says and turns on his heel to stride away.

Bilbo abandons his own shopping and hurries to Thorin’s side. “Let me take you to the hospital then. I’m right outside.”

Thorin looks at Bilbo and nods after a brief hesitation. “He’s at St Thomas’.”

They leave the grocery store and jog to Bilbo’s car. Bilbo’s hands might be trembling a bit as well but he knows he’s the only one that should be driving. He’s glad of the time and the lack of traffic as he begins to drive through the streets of London. Thorin at his side bobs his leg and wrings his hands together in his lap and Bilbo feels a strong desire to comfort him.

But he has a feeling it won’t be welcome.  
  
It feels like it takes ages to get to the hospital and Bilbo suspects Thorin feels the same. But eventually he pulls into the emergency lot and heads to drop Thorin off at the doors.

“Come in with me,” Thorin mumbles, his voice hoarse.

Bilbo’s stomach churns but he nods mutely and turns into the parking lot instead. Thorin is out of the car nearly before Bilbo has finished putting it into park and he hurries out after him. Thorin jogs ahead and Bilbo follows, feeling out of place. He isn’t sure why Thorin wants him to be here but he’ll stay all the same if he needs a familiar face.

They hurry into the waiting room and Bilbo sees a black-haired woman slumped in a chair. The moment she sees Thorin, she quickly stands and takes him into her arms.

“I haven’t heard anything yet,” she says quickly as she pulls back but keeps a hold of Thorin’s arms. “They told me he’ll be in surgery for hours.” Her voice is trembling and her lower lip wobbles but she doesn’t cry.

“What happened, Dis?” Thorin asks.

Dis sniffs. “He was on his bike,” she says, “and a delivery truck didn’t see him. He drove right into Frerin in an intersection not far from here. They’ve told me the ambulance was able to get to him very quickly.”

Thorin is breathing deeply, his hands on Dis’s shoulders. “He’ll be alright,” he says quietly but it doesn’t sound like he believes it. He turns away from Dis and puts his hands on the back of his head as he begins to pace the room.

Dis takes notice of Bilbo, who is standing near the corner to give them space. She frowns. “Are you Thorin’s friend?”  
  
She looks remarkably like Thorin, with the same striking blue eyes and intense gaze.

Bilbo nods and cautiously approaches her. “Erm… yes,” he lies. “I was with him when you called and gave him a ride. I’m Bilbo.”

“Dis,” she says faintly and slumps into the chair again. “Thank you, Bilbo.”

“Of course,” Bilbo says and looks at Thorin, who is pacing between a row of chairs. “He, erm… he asked me to come in with him but I don’t want to intrude.”

“If he asked you then it’s not an intrusion,” Dis says with a faint, pained smile. “Stay.”

Bilbo nods and sits in a chair a few down from Dis. He thinks it’s best to leave Thorin alone for a little while and taps his foot against the floor.

He feels terribly like a stranger here, like he doesn’t belong, but he supposes Dis is right. Thorin wants him there, even if it’s only for a while, so Bilbo will stay and give him whatever he needs. His heart hurts for them and he tries not to think about knowing the pain of the unknown, of sitting in emergency and believing the worst as time goes on.

He isn’t sure if it was more heartbreaking to watch his father die quickly or his mother slowly. He pushes those thoughts away and stares down at his knees until Thorin suddenly sits next to Bilbo, between him and his sister.

“I should have never let him drive a bike,” he says harshly.

“It’s not your fault, Thorin,” Dis says, her tone suggesting she knew Thorin would blame himself. “He’s careful now, just like you.”

Thorin doesn’t say anything to that but his hands tighten on the armrests of the chair, white-knuckled.

Bilbo watches him, his heart aching. “It _isn’t_ your fault,” he says carefully.

Thorin sniffs. “Maybe not,” he says. “But one of the last things I told him was that he was going to be a failure. That I won’t support him,” he says and his voice cracks.

“He knows you don’t mean it,” Dis says quietly. “I know you don’t mean it.”

“Yes I did,” Thorin says and there are tears in his voice. “I meant every word of it. If he—”

“He won’t!” Dis says fiercely and reaches over to put her hand on Thorin’s. “He won’t, Thorin. You can apologize. He’ll need to hear it and you’ll need to say it. Don’t think anything else.”

Bilbo keeps his eyes on his lap and knows nothing he can say here will help or mean anything significant. This is a family matter and he feels… well, as if he can be doing more. He stands and quietly leaves the family to go to the cafeteria. Once he’s there, he breathes out heavily and gives himself a good shake. It won’t do anyone any good if he starts crying with Thorin.

He buys a few paper cups of tea and goes back to the waiting room. He wordlessly hands Thorin and Dis a cup and while Thorin doesn’t say anything, Dis mouths a thank you as she rubs her brother’s back.

Bilbo sits down and tries not to think about the antiseptic smell. Of the cold room, of the bright lights, of the misery of those waiting. It’s familiar and cloying and brings back memories he’d rather he had forgotten entirely. It makes the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end and he sips the scalding hot tea in an effort to get the lump in his throat to go away.

They say nothing for a while and people come and go. But when the doors open and a man comes in carrying a car seat with a sleeping infant inside, Dis leaps up and hurries to him. He sets the seat down and hugs her tightly. She hiccups a bit but she’s trying not to cry and Bilbo suspects that might be for Thorin’s sake.  
  
Dis talks quietly to the man, who is as blond as the baby, his eyes brown and kind but worried. They come to the chairs and the man squeezes Thorin’s shoulder until Thorin nods.

“Bilbo,” Dis says softly. “This is my husband, Vili, and our son, Fili. Bilbo is Thorin’s friend,” she says to Vili. “He brought him here.”

“Good of you,” Vili says with a brief smile.

Bilbo tries to smile back and he must fail because Vili nods in sympathy. He would greet Vili if it didn’t feel so inappropriate to. But Vili excuses himself to go get tea and Bilbo dares a glance at Thorin.

Thorin is staring down at his knees, his eyes red-rimmed, and Bilbo feels helpless. He swallows and rests his arm on the armrest and offers his hand.

It doesn’t seem like Thorin even notices it until he abruptly grabs it and holds on. His grip is tight but trembling, his skin clammy, and Bilbo squeezes back.

Time moves slowly and there is only the occasional short conversation between Dis and Vili to be heard. Thorin continues to grip Bilbo’s hand but the trembling eventually stops and he sits up straighter in the chair. He looks at Bilbo once, his eyes haunted but conveying a gratitude Bilbo doesn’t expect.

After two hours, a nurse comes to update the family. Frerin isn’t necessarily out of the woods yet but the bleeding has been stopped and his organs and ribs are being repaired. She warns that his leg might not be repaired that day and that he’ll likely need more than one surgery to do so anyway.

It’s enough for Dis and Vili, it seems, as they grasp on to each other and don’t let go after the nurse has left.

But Thorin does. He stands and strides out of the waiting room and down the long hall toward the cafeteria. Bilbo watches him go and chews his lip before glancing at Dis and Vili.

Dis is watching him. “He won’t be alright until he can speak with Frerin,” she says. “He was like this when our father was in hospital. Our mother too, later.”

“Go after him,” Vili says with a small smile. “You seem to do him some good.”

Bilbo isn’t particularly sure about that or if going after Thorin is even a good idea at all. But he nods and clumsily clambers out of the chair and leaves the waiting room to find Thorin.

It takes him a little while and it isn’t until he’s almost gone in a circle around the ground floor that he sees him. Thorin is sitting on the floor in a fairly empty hallway, his head in his hands. Bilbo watches him until his heart calms down and approaches him slowly.

“You can sit,” Thorin says after a while without lifting his head. His voice is thick with tears.

Bilbo slides down the wall next to Thorin and wraps his arms around his knees. “It was good news, Thorin.”

“For now,” Thorin says brittlely.

“It’ll only get better,” Bilbo says. “He’s in good hands.”

Thorin is quiet for a while. He sniffs. “My father shot himself,” he says. “In the chest. We thought he’d live from what the nurses told us but he didn’t.”

Bilbo feels ill and cold and squeezes his hands together. “I’m sorry,” he says. “I’m sorry that happened to you. But it won’t happen again. Frerin will be alright. You’ll be talking to him before morning comes.”

Thorin leans back against the wall and stretches his legs out in front of him. “I don’t deserve to talk to him.”

“Hush now,” Bilbo says firmly. “That’s up to Frerin and you’re going to be one of the first faces he’ll expect to see when he’s waking up. You need to be there when he does.”

“How am I supposed to face him after what I said?”

“Your sister said you’ll get to apologize to him. You will. That’s how you face him,” Bilbo says and his hand twitches but he thinks better of reaching out. “He won’t want you to spend your entire life making it up to him but… well, you’ll both have the time.”

Thorin wipes a few tears away before they soak into his beard. “They both deserve an apology,” he whispers. “I’ve been turning into our grandfather for years now.”

Bilbo suspects he has an inkling as to what Thorin meant in the grocery store now. “You aren’t him. You’re Thorin and you have all the time in the world to be Thorin.”

“My grandfather made it clear being _Thorin_ wasn’t enough.”

“He’s dead?”

Thorin nods.

“Then what more harm can he do? You’re plenty enough. And if anyone thinks otherwise… well, they can fuck off, can’t they?”

Thorin is silent for a few moments before he looks at Bilbo. He smiles and it’s nearly too sad for Bilbo’s heart to bear. “I wasn’t enough back then. Not for you.”

Bilbo’s insides make a spectacular nuisance of themselves but he ignores them and chuckles wryly as he looks down at his lap. “The thing is… you were. I was an idiot. You were plenty enough but I was too blind to see that.”

“It’s alright,” Thorin says. “We were young.” He sniffs and wipes his nose. “Are you with him?”

“Him? Him who?”

“The one you had time for,” Thorin says frankly and if there’s some bitterness, well, Bilbo supposes he deserves that.

“Goodness no,” he says. “That ended after a few years.” He huffs a little. “Not well, if it’s any consolation.”

“Not really,” Thorin says but he’s smiling again. “What happened?”

Bilbo looks up at the ceiling and hums. “Believe it or not, I wasn’t enough either. Eventually my… roundness, as he said, was an issue. I’d look better without glasses. If only I were a bit taller. If only I’d chosen a better career. If only I wasn’t an embarrassment to bring to fancy black tie parties.”

Thorin is quiet again. “Do you have his address?”

“Are you going to kick his arse?” Bilbo asks as he laughs.

Thorin smiles crookedly. “I could,” he says. He peers at Bilbo, his eyes soft. “You were plenty enough too.”

“I understand how hard that is to believe,” Bilbo says quietly. “But thank you for thinking so. And I’m sorry, for whatever it’s worth. You were good to me and I wasn’t good to you. It was quite something to realize that far too late. But I’ve thought about you, you know. I’ve hoped you were happy.”

“Sometimes I am,” Thorin says and swallows dryly. “But Frerin was right.”

_Your bloody misery._

“Now you know you can turn it around. You don’t have to be stuck where you are any more.”

“I tried not to be,” Thorin sighs. “I told myself I wasn’t my grandfather for so long that I believed it.”

“We’ve established that you’re Thorin,” Bilbo says lightly and smiles. “Start with Frerin and work on the rest over time. Your siblings will help you.”

Thorin nods. “I know they will,” he says and sounds like he actually believes it. “I’m sorry for dragging you into this.”

“I’d not want to be anywhere else,” Bilbo says, perhaps a bit too honestly. “If you need me after… after tonight… erm, I can give you my number.”

“I’d like that,” Thorin says, perhaps a bit too quickly. He clears his throat and takes out his phone.

They exchange numbers and Bilbo isn’t entirely sure how but after a while, they’re pressed shoulder to shoulder and clasping hands again. He feels lighter, like a great weight he carried on his shoulders has been lifted… which, he supposes, it has. His heart aches in a different way now, a frightening way, and he pushes it quickly away. There’s a time and a place and this isn’t it.

Especially not after what he did to Thorin all those years ago. He wouldn’t be surprised if Thorin never trusted him in that sort of way again.

Bilbo looks down at Thorin’s calloused hand wrapped around his and brushes his thumb alongside it. “Should we… should we get back to your family?”

“Stay with me for a minute more,” Thorin says softly. “Please.”

Bilbo nods and lifts Thorin’s hand to press a kiss to the back of it. It’s too much, he thinks, but his heart is filled with too many emotions, his mind with too many thoughts, all revolving around Thorin. Thorin, who he is somehow lucky enough to meet again. Thorin, who leans in and kisses the side of Bilbo’s head. Thorin, who is still gentle and Thorin, who is still _Thorin._

It’s too much and not enough but Bilbo keeps that thought to himself. He merely holds on to Thorin and Thorin holds on to him until their backs ache and they have no choice but to return to the waiting room.

There haven’t been any new updates but Dis smiles at Thorin with hope shining in her eyes and Thorin seems to take it to heart.  
  
Time still moves at a glacial pace but it does move. No one talks much until little Fili, eight months old, wakes a few hours later. He doesn’t cry but he’s fussy and Vili prepares a bottle for him in the cafeteria. Before he returns, Dis promptly sets Fili in Thorin’s lap and smiles as he laughs and claps his hands. He reaches for Thorin’s face and Bilbo is certain he’s never seen Thorin smile so warmly before.

Even if there are tears in his eyes.

Thorin feeds Fili and introduces Bilbo to him afterward. His glasses are disposed of almost instantly and it’s a bit of a scramble to get them back before Fili flings them across the room. But it’s a laugh Bilbo thinks everyone dearly needs.

Fili yawns after a while and is put back in the car seat so he can sleep. It’s past one in the morning when the nurse approaches them.

“Surgery will be done in twenty,” she says briskly but kindly. “He’s faring well. The doctor will be out shortly.” She smiles as the Durin family sags in relief and thanks her.

The moment she’s gone, Dis bursts into tears and cries quietly into her hand. Her husband comforts her and holds her in his arms and Thorin pats her knee.

Thorin’s pallor is sickly but there’s relief in his eyes when he looks at Bilbo.

A little over half an hour later, a doctor enters the waiting room and comes to the Durin family as they stand, Bilbo along with them.

“Surgery went well,” he says as briskly as the nurse had. “He’ll live.” He smiles as Dis hiccups. “His liver took the most damage but it will heal in time with rest and a strict diet. I didn’t want to repair his leg tonight. I want to see how well the rest of him heals over the next twenty-four hours. He’ll likely need a bone graft to repair the shattered femur and it will require more than one surgery.”

“Will he have mobility?” Vili asks as he cradles Dis in his arms.

“That’s our goal,” the doctor says. “But he’ll be up and in rehab in less than two weeks to make that happen. It might take a year,” he cautions, “but we’d like to see him fully mobile again. We’ll know more during the surgery.”

“Thank you,” Dis says thickly.

“You’re welcome,” the doctor says and smiles. “He’s waking up now and one of the nurses will take you back shortly.”

He’s off and Bilbo smiles as Dis drags Thorin into a hug with Vili. He’s immensely relieved himself but he feels wrung out from the highs and lows of the night. Exhaustion makes his bones ache but he doesn’t plan on going anywhere, not until Frerin has had a chance to speak with his family.

Bilbo isn’t entirely prepared to be engulfed in a hug from Dis and awkwardly pats her back. “Thank you,” she whispers into his ear. “For what you’ve done for him tonight.”

He blushes and coughs a little and nods. “Of course,” he murmurs and looks at Thorin.

It’s not hard to see Thorin’s beauty, inside and out. He looks like he’d benefit from a good cry or a few beers or both but he’s lovely nonetheless. And when Thorin meets Bilbo’s eyes, Bilbo feels what he had never felt for Thorin before hit him squarely in the chest.

It takes his breath away and he sits down heavily as the weight of it settles on his heart. It’s terrifying and exhilarating and dangerous and Bilbo knows he can do nothing about it.

Not yet.

He listens to Thorin’s deep voice as he speaks with Dis and Vili and stares down at his shoes until a nurse comes in.

“Immediate family only,” she says as she eyes Bilbo in particular.

“He is immediate family,” Thorin says roughly.

Bilbo’s not entirely surprised that the nurse glares suspiciously but decides to keep her mouth shut in the face of Thorin’s own scowl. She gestures for them to follow and Dis and Vili, who is carrying Fili, hurry after her.

“Thorin, this should really be between you four,” Bilbo says quickly. “Frerin’s only seen me in the lecture hall. He hardly knows me.”

Thorin swallows and looks a bit frightened. “At least wait in the hall.”

Bilbo nods.

It seems only natural to clasp hands and follow quickly after the others. They wind through the hospital until they’re led to recovery where Frerin has a room. Dis and Vili enter but Thorin lingers in the hallway with Bilbo.

“Go on,” Bilbo says and smiles. “It’ll be fine.”

Thorin breathes in deeply and nods before he too disappears within the room. Bilbo sighs and leans against the wall next to the open door and looks up at the bright fluorescent lights above. He doesn’t close his eyes until spots of light dance across them and that’s when he hears a gentle, rasping voice.

“I saw a bright light,” Frerin says, clearly in need of some water. “I gave it the bird.”

Dis and Vili laugh wetly and there are quiet murmurs to follow that Bilbo can’t really make out other than a few endearments. He doesn’t hear Thorin at all and while that worries him somewhat, he knows he needs to give it time.

A nurse enters the room a few times and eyes Bilbo when she does and he merely smiles at her until she huffs and stomps away.

“Give us a minute?” Frerin’s weak voice asks. “Before I pass out. They’ve given me the good stuff.”

Dis and Vili exit after a moment and Dis winks at Bilbo as she passes. They move further down the hall and wrap their arms around each other. Bilbo smiles a little to himself and wonders if he should move away as well. But he thinks that Thorin would prefer him close and his feet don’t seem likely to move anyway.

“I’m sorry,” Thorin says and his voice cracks again. “I’m so sorry, Frerin.”

“None of that,” Frerin says softly. “It’s not your fault.”

“I’m sorry for the things I’ve said.”

“It’s a good thing I can’t remember anything you’ve said recently.”

“You can’t?”

“Well, I can,” Frerin says with good humor. “But they don’t matter. You’re here, aren’t you?”

“You still deserve an apology,” Thorin says quietly. “You don’t deserve how I’ve treated you. I became him.”

“No you didn’t, Thorin. You couldn’t be him no matter how hard you tried.”

Thorin sniffs. “I’m not going to keep trying,” he says. “I swear it. If… if you want to go to Belize and drink Piña Colada’s, I’ll buy you the bloody ticket. Your happiness is what matters. I’m sorry I didn’t see that. I’m sorry I didn’t fucking see it until tonight.”

“Suppose you needed a bit of a slap in the face by life. Though I’d rather it not have been at my expense,” Frerin says hoarsely, some of his words slurring together, but a smile in his voice. “Love you, Thorin. Don’t beat yourself up about this. Find yourself… a man instead.”

Thorin scoffs before he laughs. “Sleep, Frerin. We’ll be here when you wake up.”

Frerin hums and the room goes silent for a while. Bilbo realizes he’s been smiling through their conversation when Thorin finally walks out and sees him there. But Thorin merely smiles in return and leans against the wall next to him.

“You were right,” he says simply.

“It happens now and again,” Bilbo says and bumps his arm against Thorin’s. “Your brother is kind. Funny too.”

“Don’t tell him that,” Thorin says wryly but he’s still smiling. He looks infinitely better, color returning to his skin and his eyes are brighter. “Thank you for being here.”

Bilbo nods. “Of course,” he says and smiles as Dis and Vili walk past them and go back into Frerin’s room. “Will you be alright?”

Thorin takes in a long breath. “Yes,” he sighs out. “I think I will be. Let me walk you out.”  
  
Bilbo waves at Dis and Vili from the doorway and walks down the hallway with Thorin. They’re quiet as they go but it doesn’t take long to intertwine their fingers and squeeze each other's hands. The hospital itself is quiet as well and Bilbo finds that it’s not as overwhelming now. Good things can happen here, something he’s never known himself, and he is grateful.

Thorin deserves good things. His entire family does.

They leave the hospital and walk out into the parking lot to Bilbo’s car. It’s cold out and Bilbo laments the lack of a good cardigan as they stop next to his car.

But Thorin seems to still have the ability to read his mind after all these years and wraps his arms around Bilbo and pulls him into an embrace. He rubs Bilbo’s back and arms and presses his cheek to the top of Bilbo’s head.

Bilbo sniffles a bit and hugs Thorin tightly in return, squeezing his eyes shut. “Call me whenever you’d like,” he says into Thorin’s shoulder.

“In the morning?” Thorin murmurs. “…late morning?”

Bilbo chuckles and looks up at Thorin’s blue, blue eyes. “That works,” he says and smiles. “Earlier if you need to. Though I do hope you get to sleep soon.”

Thorin smiles. “I’ll try,” he says and sighs as he lets go of Bilbo. “Do you live far from here?”

“Oh, a fair bit,” Bilbo says with a cough. “I’ll be alright.”

“Text me when you’re home,” Thorin says firmly and there’s a heavy vulnerability to his eyes. “Please.”

“I will. Promise,” Bilbo says and takes Thorin’s hand, lifting it to press a kiss to the back of it. “Good night, Thorin.”

“Good night, Bilbo,” Thorin says quietly and backs away. “Be safe.”

Bilbo nods and opens the car door and slides inside. Before he can close the door, Thorin rests his hand on it and swallows roughly.

“Bilbo.”

Bilbo’s heart begins to race. “Yes?”

“When… when he’s coming out of here,” Thorin says haltingly, “I’d like to take you on a date.”

“Oh,” Bilbo says and grins. “I was hoping you might.”

Thorin’s shoulders sag in relief and he begins to grin broadly himself. “Soon,” he says and lets go of Bilbo’s door. “I’ll talk to you in a few hours.”

Bilbo watches Thorin before he smiles and lifts a finger to beckon him closer. Thorin comes without a question and leans down until Bilbo can cup his cheek. He presses a chaste kiss to Thorin’s lips. “Good night,” he whispers.

Thorin sighs shakily and nudges his forehead against Bilbo’s. “Good night,” he says and sounds a bit awed. He pulls back reluctantly and closes Bilbo’s door and lifts his hand in farewell until Bilbo drives away.

And if he feels lighter than he has in many long years, well, he likes to think that perhaps Thorin does as well.

That maybe, just maybe, their time has come in a blaze of newfound love.

——

Five months later, Bilbo sits on a blanket on a grassy lawn and looks up at the bright lights of the Eiffel Tower. It gleams brilliantly in the night, a shining beacon above, and Bilbo smiles. He smiles because he is here, in Paris, and he has found what he has been looking for. He smiles because he’s happy and he’s in love and is loved in return and because he knows this is the way it was meant to be.

He leans back against Thorin’s chest and holds on to the arms that are wrapped tightly around him and closes his eyes as Thorin kisses his temple.

And he smiles because he knows this love will last a lifetime and beyond.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm American, so please forgive any mistakes!
> 
> I've been having such a hard time writing after I did something like 40k in three weeks. I got really burnt out! But this finally came to me and I enjoyed writing it. I hope you enjoyed reading it. Comments and kudos would be so, so appreciated.
> 
> Thank you to everyone that helped me with all aspects of this fic! I couldn't have done it without your help! You know who you are. c:
> 
> [Tumblr](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/vtforpedro)


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